Larry Snotter and the Stargate of Doom
by Pavlova Lamington
Summary: SG-1 gate to a twisted Harry Potter-like world and are forced to attend Slogworts School of Bitchcraft and Gizzardry. Stargate SG-1/Harry Potter crossover.
1. Loop the Loopin's New Wall Decoration

**_Notes_**_:  And yes, we all know Seek is an evil watermelon. :P Eh, a while ago I came across __Heliopolis__ challenge (#739, I believe) involving a Harry Potter crossover.  Though I haven't actually written a response to it, I was inspired to write this insane little piece.  Hope you enjoy it :)  It's set around season 5 Stargate-time, book 5 Potter-time.  First chapter's pretty short, but they'll get longer and probably more annoying.  Anyone who reviews within ten minutes of reading this fic gets a free el-cheapo Happy Meal toy. _

**_Disclaimer_**_:  Yeah, yeah, you know what I don't own, you know who they belong to, you know I'm only borrowing them for a bit...  _

_Larry Snotter_

_and__ the Stargate of Doom_

_Chapter 1: Professor Loop-the-Loopin's New Wall Decoration_

      Larry Snotter was a very unusual boy in many ways, and no, I'm not talking about his deformed head.  His messy black hair was almost always tidy, and his bespectacled eyes were sometimes brown or blue but never bright green.  In fact, a lot of people mistook him for Daniel Radcliffe.  It used to give him a lot of trouble in his first years at Slogworts, and even after five years some people still avoided him like the plague.  But back to Larry's abnormalities.

      Yes, Larry Snotter was quite a strange boy, in that he was the only person to ever have survived Lord Voldermonterantulaburatticusnort(or What's-His-Name as he was referred to by most wizards, who could neither pronounce nor remember his name)'s evil brain cell killing curse, which caused instant death to everyone, but apparently not Larry, who was Special.

      At least that's what everyone thought till the Headmaster, Scralbus Fumbleforthedoorknob, revealed that it had been Shrilly Snotter's blind hatred of her son, as offered him up, begging Voldermonterantulaburatticusnort to take the child instead of her, that saved him.  Now everyone knows he's just an unwanted orphan who's got to stay with his mean, evil, horrible, awful, nasty, and generally not-very-nice relatives who hate his guts.

      Of course, all of this is somewhat irrelevant to the actual plot, but it takes up space and helps bring all those bone lazy foolish fools who couldn't be bothered reading the previous four books up to speed.

      Larry was sitting with his two friends, Drone Measly and Hermighnee Deranged (whose name nobody could spell), in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which was being taught by Professor Loop-the-Loopin again because everyone likes him (except the entire school board and most of the wizarding community too, but who cares about them, they're not the ones who are paying money to buy the book).  All eyes were on the gigantic ring which was leaning against one wall of the classroom.  The ring was covered in curious symbols which Larry couldn't quite make out and had a strange, otherworldly look to it.  Larry stared at it thoughtfully.  It would take one damn big finger to fit that ring, he thought.

      Ihurtmyknee raised her hand.  "Professor," she said in a hushed voice, "Is that... could that be... the fabled Ring of Rather Strong Magic, with legendary powers capable of destroying the Blackest of Black bank tellers?  The very ring that protected Boris the Boofhead from the swarm of evil politicians in 824 BC?  The circle that helped Doris Poddlesnot slay that vicious dragonfly in 1904?"  Loop-the-Loopin blinked.

      "Oh – oh, that old thing.  That's just there for decoration.  I found it while searching through the Mysterious Basement Which Is Full Of Creepy And Probably Magical Stuff.  I just thought it was quite an interesting piece of artwork, y'know, the type that really makes you think." Professor Loop-the-Loopin looked up at the ring with fascination for several minutes, "Yes," he said thoughtfully, "It would take one damn big finger to fit that ring."

      "Oh." said Hurrmyninny, looking vaguely put off.

      "Now," said Loop-the-Loopin, "Today we were going to learn about how to defeat Vloder- Voldermar- ah, What's-His-Name, you know, so Larry would be able to save the day at the end of the book when remembering back to this class, only I just happened to be passing this glade of fairies and I thought, why, the cheeky buggers, they've chewed up all the roses!  Nasty creatures are fairies; you really need to know how to defend yourselves against them, which is why..."

      It was at that precise moment that Professor Loop-the-Loopin's piece of wall art spewed out a huge white-blue plume, which engulfed seventeen students and killed them instantly.  But nobody really noticed as they're unimportant characters who aren't even important enough to get a single line.  However, they did notice the big plume-thingy, and started screaming like girls.  As for the female students, they just hid under the tables in the hope that if they ignored it, it might just get tired and go away.  

     The plume retreated back to the ring, and formed a rippling surface.  It was like, thought Larry, a lake which had been emptied out on the wall and had stuck there.

      "Larry!" shouted Loop-the-Loopin, "Get Professor Fumbleforthedoorknob!"  Larry didn't move.  He was too busy pondering over how big a lake would be needed for some of the water to stick to the way instead of rolling off.  But it was okay because Professor Fumbleforethedoorknob had already appeared at the door anyway.  And also Professors Snapecrackleandpop, McDonalds and Nitpick.  

      Which was fortunate because it was at that precise moment that four people chose to throw themselves out of the rippling centre of Loop-the-Loopin's new wall decoration.


	2. Welcome to Slogworts

**_Larry Snotter and the Stargate of Doom_**

_Chapter 2: Welcome to Slogworts_

      Colonel Jack O'Neill was not happy, Jan.

      The images the MALP had brought up showed a Mysterious Basement Which Was Full Of Cool And Probably Technologically Advanced Stuff Which Could Possibly Help In Destroying The Goa'uld Menace Or At Least Make A Few Good Explosions.  Instead, the Stargate had spewed them out – literally – into what looked like a classroom or something... only all of the students were wearing funny black dresses, even the guys.

      He had looked at Carter.  Carter had looked at him.  He waited for the familiar romantic tension which usually manifested itself at times like this where he and Carter were looking at each other.  It had not come.  So he had looked at Carter again.  Carter had looked at him again.  Nothing happened, so he had decided to skip straight to the asking her what the hell had just happened, only to find that they were being ambushed by strange men and one woman, all in dresses and all brandishing weird sticks that spat out sparks.  He guessed they must have worked a bit like zats, because one of the people had called him stupid and made some light come out of his stick, and Jack didn't remember any more after that.

      When he next woke, he had found himself lying in a cell which may have been somewhat more ominous if it wasn't stuffed with four-poster beds and carpets and tapestries and a fire place.  

      Jack had begun to feel slightly more optimistic after this, and while he waited for the rest of his team to wake, he tried the door, which had told him to sod off.  So he told the door, he _would _sod off only he couldn't because there was nowhere to sod off _to, as he was stuck in this damn room.  So the door said, well sod off to the other corner of the room and leave me in peace.  So he said, no, you sod off.  So the door said, no, you sod off.  So he said, no, _you_-_

      "Sir, why are you talking to the door?" Jack turned around.  Apparently their fighting has woken up the rest of the team, and now all of them were looking at him kinda funny.  Well, at least, Carter and Daniel were looking at him funny.  Teal'c was giving him a strange expression too, though to someone who didn't know him it looked very much like all of his other expressions.

      "It started it," Jack mumbled grumpily, kicking the door frame ill-temperedly.  Unexpectedly, the door hit him back as it swung open to admit an old man in a blue dress and with a long and somewhat moth-holey white beard.  

      As the others were obviously still too disoriented to say all that much, Colonel O'Neill immediately took it upon himself to play the part of the diplomat – a part which, he knew, Daniel was probably better equipped for, but in his opinion Jack did a pretty good job of it himself.  "Who the hell are you?"

      Looking somewhat miffed that the Colonel had spoiled his well-rehearsed dramatic entrance, the old man looked sternly around at the members of SG-1, "I," he said, "am Scralbus Fumbleforthedoorknob.  I am the headmaster of this, Slogworts School of Bitchcraft and Gizzardry, which you have so foolishly tried to intrude upon.  So tell me, spies of Voldermonterantulaburatticusnort--"

      "Ah, excuse me," said Daniel, stepping forward before Jack could say something really dumb and get them into even bigger trouble.  This drew an irritable look from Fumbleforthedoorknob, whose dramatic tension had once again been ruined, "We're, we're not spies, we're explorers, from a place called Earth.  Ah, my name is Daniel Jackson, this is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Carter and - Teal'c.  We travel to other planets looking to form alliances and find new technology-"

      "A little booze never hurt, either," muttered Jack.  Everyone ignored him.

      "You travel to other lands through peoples' wall hangings?" queried Fumbleforthedoorknob, anger melting into fascination, "My, but that must be so inconvenient.  Surely folk couldn't respond so well to a quartet of strangers suddenly appearing in their homes?"

      "Um, actually, people don't generally use them as wall decorations," said Daniel.

      "Really?  Well, I certainly can't imagine somebody would use them for a chandelier or something of the like, far too big I would have thought, still, some people do have queer tastes, I suppose…" By this point, Teal'c's eyebrows had reached new heights.  Both Carter and Daniel opened their mouths, each ready to launch into explanation, but Fumbleforthedoorknob raised a hand, "However, this is beside the point, for the fact remains that you have intruded on Slogworts School, and I would appreciate an explanation as to _why." Daniel the Diplomat returned._

      "We're sincerely sorry for intruding on your school, Professor, we never meant-"

      "We dialled the wrong number." Daniel looked at Jack, surprise evident on his face, then nodded his agreement.

      "Uh, yeah, something like that."

      Professor Fumbleforthedoorknob blinked.  "Okay."  They all looked at the old man, even the door (which was somewhat disturbing considering its lack of eyes with which to look), waiting for him to extend his remarks.

      "Okay." echoed Jack finally, when he didn't.  "So, can we go now?"

      "Ahh, no." said Fumbleforthedoorknob, "No, Colonel O'Neill, I am afraid you cannot leave this school."

      "Uhh, am I allowed to ask why the hell not?"

      "Of course."

      A long pause...

      "Why the hell not?"

      "Because I'm the goddamned headmaster, for God's sake!!  Doesn't anyone appreciate that anymore?  Because I said so you arrogant Earthling hooligans!  Because I'm the boss round here!" He paused, took a deep breath, went into a coughing fit, took another deep breath and regained his composure.  "No, Colonel, I apologise however you cannot leave.  I'm afraid I simply can't release such untrained, if you will excuse me, numbskulls, such as you into the worlds."

      "Well, with all due respect, Professor, we aren't exactly untrained," Carter began, to be cut off by Fumbleforthedoorknob.

      "Can you turn a discman into a zucchini?  Can you make bubbles come out of an alpaca's nose?  Can you make a teapot do the can-can? I didn't think so.  I am afraid it is my responsibility to keep away from the outside worlds, where you may potentially be a hazard to yourselves and others with your minimal magical skill.  I will admit you into Slogworts as fifth year students just so you can be in Larry's class, and endeavour to teach you skills which will actually be of use to you."

      "Ah, actually, I think-" Daniel started.

     "No you don't.  You're an idiot." Professor Fumbleforthedoorknob stated seriously.  "I will have to leave you for the present, if you will excuse me..." As he went to walk out, Jack remembered something, something vitally important.

      "Hey!" Fumbleforthedoorknob turned.  "We don't have to wear dresses, do we?"

**_Notes_**_: My offer about the Happy Meal toys still stands.  I hope that was okay, I know it's certainly not the best chapter and the whole excuse for SG-1 being made to attend Slogworts is pretty feeble (though until they find a DHD or other power source, I guess they're stuck there anyway).  I wasn't quite sure how to portray Fumbleforthedoorknob; at first I tried making him completely self-obsessed (I've still left a bit of those "dramatic tension" bits in), but it didn't work that well, seemed like I was going too far, so I've tried to make him a bit more like Dumbledore, though I've deliberately made him completely out-of-character in some places.  How'd I do?_

**_Disclaimer_**_: People far richer and more powerful than me own Harry Potter and Stargate SG-1.  I own a word processor and a strange sense of humour._


	3. The Third Chapter

_Larry Snotter and the Stargate of Doom_

_Chapter 3: The Third Chapter_

      True to Colonel O'Neill's concerns, SG-1 _did have to wear dresses, or "robes" as the people of Slogworts called them.  Jack and Daniel had brightened considerably when Aaron Sorkin (owner of Sorkin's Robes for All Occasions in Perpendicular Avenue, since leaving the West Wing) announced that he had no Slogworts uniforms in their sizes, but fortunately Professor McDonalds had recently come across four sets of robes in the school's second hand department._

      "Anyone wanna trade?" asked Jack, whose sleeves were falling down near his ankles.  He looked around at Daniel, whose dress/robes may possibly have been black once upon a time, Sam, who wore a garment so riddled with moth holes, claw-marks and some curious red stains, and Teal'c, who looked as though he was wearing a mini-skirt.  Each shook their heads.  "Oh, come on, it's spacious, it's, uh, it's airy, lots of pocket-space..." No sale.  Jack grumbled and started rolling back his sleeves.

      Also on Perpendicular Avenue, SG-1 was able to purchase their various school supplies – though, where the money which paid for these came from was never made quite apparent, however Jack noticed their zat guns and P-90s were never actually returned to their owners.

      "_The Substandard Book of Spells (Grade _5) by Miranda Soandso, _A Partially Completed History of Magic _by Wallace Mc..._,_ _The Boring Bits in Magic by Your English Teacher, __An Intermediate Guide to Disfiguration by George W. Bush, _One Thousand, Three Hundred and Seventy-Four Magical Herbs and Weeds _by Don Burke, __Drafts and Potions: The Essential Wizard's Cookbook by Bernadette Toaster, _Disgusting Creatures and Where to Go If You Want to Avoid Them _by Dr Harry Cooper and Steve Irwin, _A Guide to Killing What's His Name in Ten Easy Steps_ by T.M. Riddle... are these really all necessary?" Sam Carter queried, scanning over their book list._

      "Aye, lassie," said Haggis, the big hairy man from Slogworts, who had accompanied them to Perpendicular Avenue, "Ye'll need all o' those if ye ever want teh be a real wizard."

      "What if we don't want to be real wizards?" asked Colonel O'Neill, somewhat daringly considering the other man was five times his size.

      "Shut up and let me do me job."

      After picking up their Potions supplies at the local Coles Supermarket, they headed down towards Ollivanders which, aside from selling cheap postcards and plastic key rings, was also the main supplier of wands since K-Mart burnt down last week, as Haggis informed them.

      "Here we are, chaps, Ollivanders, hundred and seventy-second best wand shop in the world.  Jolly good, eh wot?"  
  
      "What happened to your accent?" Jack asked the man.

      "What's wrong with the way I-?  _Ollzy, mate!  Ya big galah, I was wondering where you'd nicked off to.  These four need wands, think ya can give us a hand?" as he said this, SG-1 noticed the only other occupant of the room for the first time.  Mr Ollivander, a decidedly freaky figure, stared at them all piercingly._

       "This shall cost you greatly," he said in a low voice, "Yes indeed; you must pay a price... in _blood.  What I ask in return for this favour you ask of me is this: the boon of your firstborn child." he leered at them, "Or you could just pay by credit.  We also take FlyBuys."_

      In the end, Daniel was presented with a wand of ash which had a Pegasus spleen core, Teal'c with a wand of oak with a core of naquadah, Sam a steel one apparently running off a nuclear power source in the core, and Jack a plastic glow-in-the-dark one with a core of olive oil.

      "C'mon, then," said Haggis, once they were back in Perpendicular Avenue, "Oi'd be'er git yew back ter Slogworts, git some rest.  After all, big day termorrer."

      The looks shared by the members of SG-1 were ones of barely contained horror.


	4. The Order of the Kleenex

**_Larry Snotter and the Stargate of Doom_**

**_Chapter 4: The Order of the Kleenex_**

The following day, just before the start of classes, Colonel O'Neill was summoned to Professor Fumbleforthedoorknob's office.

"Colonel O'Neill, the time has come for me to speak to you of a somewhat delicate matter," said the old headmaster in a low, urgent voice.

"Is someone listening?" Jack looked over his shoulder as though expecting to catch sight of some figure lurking in the shadows.

"No, no," said Fumbleforthedoorknob unconcernedly, before reverting back to his secretive whisper, "I'm just trying to drive the point home that this is a very, very important conversation of most incredible gravity."

"It is?"

"Oh, my, yes." He cleared his throat, peering seriously at the other man over the rims of his spectacles. "Colonel O'Neill, I have called you to my office because I would like to invite you and your team – or, fellow students, I should say – to join _The Order of the Kleenex_."

Whatever kind of impact Fumbleforthedoorknob had expected these words to make on Jack fell somewhat short of the mark. "The what?"

"The Order," said Fumbleforthedoorknob patiently, as though he was explaining to a child, "Of the Kleenex."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said... what is it?"

"Actually, we of the Order are not a hundred per cent sure. You see, our order of book five has been a bit late in coming... However," he continued brightly, "All of us quite thought it sounded like some sort of heavy-metal band. For allergy-sufferers, of course. What do you think?"

There was a considerable silence, during which Fumbleforthedoorknob looked expectantly at Jack, and Jack wondered what he was supposed to say. Finally...

"Uh... I've got a class."

The office door had opened and shut before Scralbus Fumbleforthedoorknob had any chance to reply.

Larry first noticed the newcomers in History of Magic, the final class of the day. He noticed them, not because they were sitting right next to him, not due to the obvious age difference between the four and the rest of the class, not because Daniel was talking to him, nor did the fact that Jack was leaning across the table to copy Larry's answers and steal his ink draw his attention.

He had been staring out of the window, an exercise he regularly undertook during classes such as these. Just in case a plot development might fly through it. Larry had been gazing for about thirty minutes, when it occurred to him that what he had first thought to be some sort of distant rock, or hill or something was in fact a head, and residing on the same side of the window as he.

That head was connected to a body, which belonged to a large, bald man in rather ill-fitting Hogwarts robes. Beside him sat a bespectacled fellow, a blonde woman and a man with greying hair.

Larry looked up at the 'giant'. He meant to say who are you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth and what he said instead was, "Thank you."

They all stopped. Daniel stopped talking. Jack stopped copying Larry's work. Sam stopped trying to make sense of what the ghost of Professor Dustbin was saying. Teal'c stopped looking stoic, and raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" Larry blinked at Daniel, confused by this odd request.

"Okay, sure. Who are you?"

"Uh, I'm Daniel; this is Sam and Jack, and Teal'c." Daniel replied, motioning to each member of SG-1 in turn and wondering why it was _he_ always got stuck with the introductions.

"Oh. I'm Larry."

"Larry Snotter?" Sam queried, "Yeah, we heard about you."

"Oh yeah?" said Larry bitterly, "Yeah that'd be right. I suppose you heard all about how Voldermonterantulaburatticusnort and how he killed my mum and dad only he couldn't kill me, huh? And all about my _Scar_, and how I have to live with Mangles who hate me? And how I only charge seven sickies for an autograph? IT'S NOT TRUE, DAMMIT; I WON'T GO ANY LOWER THAN FIFTEEN!"

Silence fell.

"Lavender, take Silence down to the Hospital Wing so Madam Pompous can patch up her knee." said Dustbin. The girl complied and Professor Dustbin went back to teaching.

"No, actually your Fumblemumble... whatever guy just told us you were in our class. Guess he forgot to mention scars and autographs." Jack said, in response to Larry's outburst.

"Oh, okay," said Larry, who seemed satisfied by this. "Um, this is Drone and Haerrmoinhaye." He motioned to the seats beside him, only to find that they were empty as the lesson had just ended and all of the students were filing out of the classroom until only Larry, SG-1 and Professor Dustbin were left. The latter shrugged and went to exit through the blackboard.

_Thump._

"Oh, blast." Dustbin grumbled, picking himself off the ground and brushing chalk dust off his spectral dress – I mean, robes. "That's the third time that's happened this week!"

**_Notes:_**_ At long last, the next installment! Really sorry for the wait; chapter five shouldn't be so long in coming, though as I've already written about half of it. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed or emailed me! Almost had to check twice to make sure it was really my fic you were talking about half time time. ;) Happy Meal gizmos for all of you!_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Harry Potter and Stargate SG-1 belong to people with a much higher income than me. I just borrowed them when they weren't looking._


	5. These People Are Crazy

**_Larry Snotter and the Stargate of Doom_**

**_Chapter 5: These People Are Crazy_**

He had suspected it for some time. Ever since that door told him to sod off there had been a kind of niggling in him – but he had kept his concerns to himself, at that time. Now, though; now there could be absolutely no doubt about it: These people were crazy!

"These people are crazy." Daniel looked up from the book he was reading, entitled _A__ Highly Biased And Selective History of Slogworts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School_, blinking at Jack as he only now noticed his presence.

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as _crazy_; I mean, I'll admit their way of life is sort of – different to what we're used to, but really, their _culture_ is quite amazing. Just look at the way they've managed to adapt to..."

Ah well. Danny was an archaeologist, and he always had had a screw or two loose. Carter would understand things from his perspective.

"These people are crazy."

"Actually, sir, a better word for it might be – miraculous. Think about it; these people are somehow able to channel advanced mental powers through an entirely mundane device to do literally anything; just imagine, the possibilities are..."

Jack went away disgusted. Scientists! Teal'c, though, Teal'c was a warrior. Teal'c would see where he was coming from.

"These people are crazy."

"O'Neill, on Chulak my people have many customs which you of the Tau'ri would find barbaric. The rituals of these Wizards are indeed strange, but they are as sane as you or I."

Colonel Jack O'Neill was surrounded by wackoes!

SG-1 had been at Slogworts for a number of days, now, and still no means of escaping the planet had presented itself. The Stargate still hung on Loop-the-Loopin's wall. They had warned Fumbleforthedoorknob that their people would come through the 'gate after them if they didn't return, to which the old wizard replied unconcernedly that nobody would be getting in through _that_ wall-hanging, brushing aside any further questions.

The DHD appeared to be MIA, so there was no way of dialling home – or at least, not without another power source, and nothing of that nature seemed readily available. Carter seemed to thing that these people's "magic" could work, but anybody who could help the team there was set on keeping them at Slogwarts until they were pulling rabbits out of hats.

Classes were, if nothing else, bizarre.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of the different stars. Jack had expected he would find this the easiest class, considering his occupation and his leisurely interest in astronomy, but it seemed these wizard people had different names for all the constellations and, being a fairly unimaginative people, most of them were Bob.

Three times a week they trumped out to the greenhouses behind the castle, where they learnt how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what sorts of highly useful things they could be made into, such as fragrant soap, or a healthy garden salad. The class was taught by Professor Trout, a dumpy little witch who bore a spooky resemblance to Jackie French.

"Good afternoon, evwybody! I had woot canaw! Today we're going to be fertiwising Swobbewing Swuzzwewums which can water be used to make a wovewy hand wotion, so I'd wike you to open youwr books to page thwee hundwed and fowty thwee. Wovewy."

Easily the most boring lesson was History of Magic. Interestingly enough, it was also the class with the highest fatality rate. Professor Dustbin himself had been very old indeed when he had finally died of boredom during one of his own lectures about Igor the Clinically Insane, and had walked out of the classroom leaving his body behind him. It still lay slumped in one corner of the classroom (Dustbin was a sentimental bloke), gathering dust and creepy-crawlies, and emanating a most foul stench.

Professor Nitpick, the Charms teacher, was a giant of a man who stood on a pile of books to emphasise his considerable height. He taught what he called "practical" magic, the stuff that you could expect to in your everyday life – such as, for example, making feathers fly and getting an ordinary desk lamp to pace around the room, muttering to itself.

Professor McDonalds was again different. Jack had been quite wrong to think she wasn't a teacher who'd get cross. Strict and clever, she would punish students for the tiniest little gaffe, such as chewing gum in class or wagging in order to search the castle for the missing DHD.

"Disfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said, "Anyone messing around in my class will be leave and not come back. You have been warned." With McDonalds's assurances, Colonel O'Neill was fully prepared to mess around, but after seeing her Disfigure an expendable student as an example of the kind of things they would be learning, he thought better of it.

Divination was simply weird. The teacher, Drivel Treyawney, spent a good deal of the class predicting each of the students' weekly misfortunes. Jack was in danger of falling into a fiery pit of green sludge inhabited by giant space hamsters, while Daniel was scheduled to die (again) by the stroke of midnight on Wednesday. Teal'c was under orders to watch Junior, who Treyawney suspected would leap out of its abdominal pouch and throttle the Jaffa within the next couple of days. Sam's next seventeen love interests' days were numbered.

Treyawney seemed to particularly enjoy singling out Larry; in the short time SG-1 had been attending the class, the Divination teacher had predicted Larry's death every lesson without fail. The event had never come to pass as yet, but that did not stop Treyawney. It was Jack's opinion that she was just hoping, as was most of the rest of the school.

Cookery classes took place down in one of the basements, while the Home Economics room was being revamped. It was quite cosy, really. They were forced to use cauldrons, in the absence of more modern equipment (Fumbleforthedoorknob could be a little stingy when it came to spending money. He was also a couple of centuries older than everybody else and didn't care much for any of those new-fangled contraptions), and due to short supplies many of the ingredients on their lists had to be substituted for... alternative items.

Still, it was quite a learning experience. Jack had never realised just how many different things the eye of a newt could be used for. It might have even been enjoyable (well, _almost _enjoyable), if not for the presence of the Kitchens Master, Professor Snapecrackleandpop.

He was a bad egg, Snapecrackleandpop. He was like a Goa'uld, only he didn't have an evil snake in his head, or have glowy eyes, or say "Kree" a lot for no apparent reason, or blast people with a ribbon device when they pissed him off (though he did hand out an awful lot of detentions), or enslave people and make them worship him as a god, or try to blow up people because he didn't like them. He did eat snakes while they were still alive, though.

To sum it up, Professor Snapecrackleandpop was mean. By the end of their first lesson, Jack was ready to beat the living crap out of the guy. He did suggest it to Teal'c, but the Jaffa had just given him eyebrow #39, his I-do-not-understand-you-O'Neill eyebrow. Or perhaps it was #24, the fortunately-we-are-not-on-Chulak one.

So now, Jack was counting down the hours. He knew it was coming; within the day, if his estimate was correct. Things just couldn't hold up for much longer. And sure enough, it came. Carter, Daniel and Teal'c all trudged into the dorm (a.k.a. the "cell" they had stayed in on their first night). They looked at him, gravely.

"These people are crazy."

Jack smirked, "Told ya so."

**_Notes:_**_ Fifth chapter, as promised! A couple of months late, sure, but I did write it. (Apologies for the lateness; I'll try to make it up to you guys with some new installments over the summer holidays .) Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, you make my day!_

**_Disclaimer: _**_Yes, I own them all. I do. I make millions out of these guys every year. They're mine, all mine, muahaha!_

**_Disclaimer For Those Without a Sense of Humour: _**_I do not own Stargate SG-1, nor do I own Harry Potter, and am not involved in any kind of conspiracy to take over the world._


	6. The Arrival of the Plot

**_Larry Snotter and the Stargate of Doom_**

**_Chapter 6: The Arrival of the Plot_**

Finding an opportunity to discuss their situation privately with his team was more difficult than Colonel O'Neill had expected.

Their dorm/cell was out, as their door tended to be something of a gossip and was ever-alert, listening for snatches of conversation. Jack had tried convincing it to take a break and go off somewhere else for a while, as he had seen other doors do. This door, however, was not willing to do the Colonel any favours at that moment, still sore from his "sod off" remark from their first day.

The Colonel politely reminded the door that _he_ had not been the one to initiate that particular altercation (okay, his exact words were more along the lines of "oh for crying out loud, you started it!") upon which the door screeched shut, locking Jack, Carter and Teal'c in the room for eight hours (the latter killing any romantic moments which might have blossomed from this prolonged period of confinement).

From any time they stepped out of their room, it seemed, they were trapped in the company of a teacher, student, ghost or some other manner of creature. They couldn't talk in the halls, or any of the classrooms without risking being overheard by a portrait or statue. Even the grounds were no good, the dominating presence of the giant Squib in the lake killing any hope of a private conversation.

Jack considered their dilemma as he, Carter, Daniel and Teal'c headed towards the Gryffindork common rooms, Drone and Hahmirunniee trailing faithfully behind them. The pair had attached themselves to SG-1 from the start (think limpets) and hung around them not unlike a bad smell.

Bad smell. Hey, the toilets! There was an option they hadn't considered. Jack remembered Drone describing how he, Armandknee and Larry used to use Groaning Girdle's bathroom to secretly brew Polly Juice (some special kind of smoothee, he thought, though he wasn't totally sure of that). Now if only they could get away without being noticed...

"Chris Columbus!"

"Huh?" Jack looked around at Carter's random declaration, to see the portrait of the Horizontally Challenged Wommon swinging open. Belatedly, he remembered this to be the new password for Gryffindork tower.

They entered, to a more-or-less empty common room. Colonel O'Neill wondered why the room might be so deserted at such an early hour and, casting an eye around the room, quickly found the answer to his own question.

Larry Snotter looked over at them, a scowl planted on his face. "Go away! I'm brooding."

Hurryupplease looked worried, "Larry? What's wrong?"

"I told you; I'm brooding."

"Oh, come on, there's no need for-"

"You don't know what it's like!" Larry shouted belligerently.

Drone gave SG-1 a resigned 'here-we-go-again' look.

"Larry, please," began Whoremenee reasonably.

"WHO FOUND THE PHILOSOPHER – STONED, I MIGHT ADD – AND PROTECTED HIM FROM VOLDERMONTERANTULABURATTICUSNORT? WHO UNCLOGGED THE CHAMBER POT OF SECRETS AND GOT RID OF THE SNAKE INFESTATION INSIDE IT, HEY? WHO FOUGHT OFF THE DEMENTEDS AND SAVED BOTH YOUR ASSES? WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND HOUSEWIVES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR, WHO DID THAT, HUH? WHO SAW _HIM_ COME BACK? WHO WAS FORCED TO CARRY HIS TONS OF LUGGAGE BACK TO THE HOTEL UNAIDED? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? _ME!_ ME, ME, ME!"

Herrymoney and Drone were shocked – more due to the fact that Larry had actually managed to string together two coherent sentences than anything else. They stood in astounded silence for several minutes before either one could find their tongue. Then,

"No, Larry, dear," said Hairminny gently, "That was all the stunt double."

"Oh, yeah," said Larry, sinking back into his chair with a sigh, "I forgot." Drone shrugged sympathetically, and Urmhianney rested a hand on Larry's arm in reassurance. The latter's reaction caused a great deal of uproar among all the Harm/Larry shippers who lived under the couch ("See? We were right!" "Beat THAT with a stick!").

It was then that Drone shifted nearer to put his arm around Harrmeearnii – silly boy, tittered the H/L shippers, if he had wanted to reach for his I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butterbeer, he should have just walked around her! Ah, but there was no teaching some men, utter Neanderthals that they were.

Jameinnie snuggled closer to Drone; it was cold in those common rooms, for Fumbleforthedoorknob had not yet organised to have central heating installed, the shippers nodded to each other – how smart of Hearmienunny to think to share body heat to keep warm, though they all agreed that she was very brave to actually do so with the slovenly Drone.

Drone and Yermionee shared a passionate kiss, while the shippers confided in each other their amazement at these incredibly unlikely circumstances which had somehow caused Horemyonie and Drone to find themselves in the awkward and unfortunate position of having their lips adhered together.

"Still," Larry brightened, oblivious to all that was going on between his two best 'friends', and the gossiping of the shippers behind him, "At least I beat up that annoying git on my own – boy, did I teach _him _a lesson – what was his name again? That seventh year..."

"Er... sorry, Larry; that was also the stunt double." Drone informed him.

"Well, how about when I squashed that mosquito-"

"That, too."

"I made a pot of tea last week-"

"Stunt double."

"This morning I walked down the stairs-"

"Stunt double."

"I fell out of bed-"

"Stunt double."

"I woke up, I got dressed, I cleaned my teeth-!" he stopped, seeing Hermjanney and Drone's expressions. "That- that was me, wasn't it?" Larry asked, beginning to look a little worried.

Slowly, sadly, the other two shook their heads.

"Well, surely I do _something _around here!" he cried in exasperation.

"Nope."

"No, nothing really comes to mind..."

Conveniently, their conversation was interrupted at this point by an entirely random and unimportant prefect. "Fumbleforthedoorknob wants everyone down in the Mediocre Hall!"

"Good afternoon, children." Fumbleforthedoorknob began, "As you may, but probably won't be aware, Professor Loop-the-Loopin has recently moved to Mandyville, leaving us without a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the seventeen odd minutes it took for us to locate and hire Professor Delirious Dumb Bitch."

"_Hem, hem._" Ominous music accompanied the clearing of Professor Dumb Bitch's throat.

Fumbleforthedoorknob shot an annoyed look at the school's little-mentioned Orchestra. "I know we're cutting into your rehearsal time, but if you would please be patient, I'm sure Professor Dumb Bitch would like to say a few words."

Dumb Bitch got to her feet, a simpering smile on her face. "Thank you, Headmaster." Lightening flashed outside. Damned electrical storms.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Slogworts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!" She beamed at them, revealing very large and pointed teeth, and prompting a particularly fragile first year to burst into noisy tears. "I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Jack hated this woman already.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of far less importance than their adherence to doing exactly as we tell you. The rare gifts with which you were born mat come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. Blah, blah, blah."

As Dumb Bitch prattled on, Colonel O'Neill found his attention wandering. The words coming from her mouth blurred into a meaningless steam in the back of his head – in one ear, on a direct route out through the other – kind of like Carter's technobabble. But whereas Carter always seemed animated and involved as she explained whatever alien doodad they'd happened upon, Dumb Bitch was all business, and her words were a dull drone with a distinctly rehearsed sound to them.

Oh, and there was that thing where the woman was an alien.

Jack let out an almost audible sigh of relief, concluding that the two could no be related.

Casting an eye around the Mediocre Hall, Jack saw that what he had originally thought to be a respectful silence, such as usually accompanied such a speech (these people were big on speeches) was actually due to the fact that a large proportion of the students had fallen asleep in their chairs.

Larry was staring blankly into space, as he usually did whenever anybody started to use big words around him. Drone was slumped forward and drooling over the tabletop. Teal'c had his eyes closed in what was either meditation or a light slumber. The Jaffa probably wouldn't admit to it, but Jack rather suspected the latter. Daniel was staring at the woman, his expression a bad attempt at interest in her words, but the Colonel was sure that he wasn't absorbing any of it.

In fact, it seemed that Carter, Whoremoanie, the French exchange student who didn't speak any English, and the teachers were the only ones who were actually taking in any of it, and even some of the professors appeared to be on the verge of dropping off.

"...because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time to be recognised as a result of too much Firewhisky. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Magic is in charge so just sit up straight and listen for God's sake. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, accountability and other impressive words of four or more syllables. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."

She paused, apparently anticipating applause. When none was forthcoming, the Orchestra picked up a lively tune, startling everyone into consciousness.

"Thank you very much, Professor Dumb Bitch, that was most illuminating." said Fumbleforthedoorknob, stumbling over his robes as her bowed to her. As he righted himself, Sam looked across at the others, frowning.

"Well, that _was_ illuminating," she said in a low voice.

"You're not telling me you... enjoyed it, Carter?" Jack asked, incredulous.

"Illuminating, not enjoyable," Hurrymuzzly clarified.

"It certainly did explain a lot, sir."

"Did it?" asked Daniel and Larry in a frightening unison.

"Sounded like a load of waffle to me." Larry added.

For once, Jack could actually agree with the kid.

"She just announced her plans to enforce a zombie-like obedience to their Ministry while taking over the school by eliminating anything and anyone that opposes her, and enforcing bizarrely restrictive rules aimed at helping her on her road to domination and simultaneously making Larry's life hell!!" Carter informed them.

"Oh." Jack frowned, glancing around at the hall at the students, still blinking as they woke from their slumber. "How did we miss that?"

**_Notes: _**_I really need to stop it with the West Wing references, don't I? Please take the time to review. I live on feedback!_


	7. Time Passes

_**LARRY SNOTTER AND THE STARGATE OF DOOM**_

_**Chapter 7: Time Passes**_

It would not be entirely accurate to say that the next few weeks passed without event. In fact, quite a lot of things happened around Slogworts Castle in that period of time. Most of these things, of course, had to do with such mundane activity as eating, sleeping, working, pretending to work, trying to avoid work, inconspicuously searching for absent DHDs and eating pie.

Of those that weren't any of these things, quite a few were very memorable indeed. Such as the time that Larry got his head stuck in the lavatory.

(This, of course, was no unusual occurrence in itself, for Larry's eyes were apt to wander to the toilet bowl when faced with the boring décor of a bathroom cubicle - and the waters, when clean as they sometimes were after flushing, did tend to reflect the face of the one staring into them… And Larry, of course, being by nature – if not quite chivalrous bloke, then certainly not one to neglect his own skin – would always startle at the discovery that he appeared to be drowning in the U-bend and would immediately leap to his own rescue.)

And then there was the time that Daniel had been accidentally turned into a pumpkin and the team had spent four sleepless nights compiling a list of potion ingredients necessary to revert him to his human status – only to be met, as they returned rather the worse for wear from the forest, laden with golden fleeces and unicorn horns, by a very irate Dr. Jackson raving that he didn't care how much longer time seemed to pass when shut up in a book cabinet, for it had surely been more than the promised return time of five minutes by now and he wasn't about to wait any longer!

To this day, the pumpkin has not been heard of since.

Yes, upon reflection, there were a lot of very memorable things that occurred in the specified time frame. However, only a very select few bear any relevance to the plot whatsoever – and here we approach what I believe is the closest we will get to a point in this chapter.

Item number one was Professor Dumb Bitch's immediate dislike of Larry and SG-1. This could only be expected, given Jack's inability to behave subservient, Sam and Daniel's inabilities to quell their own levels of intelligence, Teal'c's inability to hide the fact that he could snap Dumb Bitch in two and Larry's inability to exude anything close to charisma.

That being said, the penning-death-threats-in-their-own-blood thing was a little bit over-the-top.

Item number two was that Jack was made a finder-keeper on the Gryffindork Quiddit team. This was largely due to the facts that Drone had overslept.

Item number three, as you have probably already guessed, is that Sam began a stamp collection.

At this juncture, she can proudly boast the ownership of six specimens, each at the value of three Knutcases.

Of course, our heroes do not know that these occurrences are in any way important to the plot at this time.

In fact, as we join them, they are still puzzling over the pumpkin calamity...

_**Notes: **Apologies for this stingy excuse for a chapter; it's been quite a while, I know. I promise the next one won't be so long in coming. In fact, as it's the dawn of the New Year and all – I resolve that the next chapter will not be so long in coming._

_Have a wonderful, safe and humourous New Year, everybody!_

**_Insert standard disclaimer, desperate requests not to sue me and inventories of my meagre possessions here._**


End file.
